


deep blue devils (darker than black)

by nanakomatsus



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Blood and Gore, Dark Magic, Death Eaters, Explicit Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Violence, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:46:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanakomatsus/pseuds/nanakomatsus
Summary: And he allows himself to fall backwards, arms spread out like those martyrs in the many paintings hung up on the Walls of Remembrance back in the Ministry.(Minhyun doesn’t mind not being remembered. It is better that way.)





	deep blue devils (darker than black)

**Author's Note:**

> read the tags, don't get upset  
> sinking man - of monsters and men

 

There are whispers.

 

Whispers of remnants from a dark time in the past, of children of the night who breathe the scent of metallic, of living beings with skeletal masks doing the Devil’s deeds.

 

He’s heard of them, from the echoing conversations on the streets, from the mutterings of the crazed that roam around, dripping wet with Firewhiskey. Maybe, he’s seen one, once or twice, as his mind hangs on the cusp of sleep- taking their kill and disappearing into the night.

 

They appear from the shadows, dragging their victims who scream soundlessly, down into the murky depths of the night, into doors that were never there; leading them into their nightmares.

 

They bare many names; the Knights of Walpurgis, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the Death Eaters.

 

But none of this seems to matter to him, not in this moment, as he winds through the vast expanse of the nameless floating village he’d been taking refuge in. The sky is grey and his vision is hazy. The rain is pouring down hard; the cold seeping into his bones. Still, the shouts of his chasers ring out, bouncing against the walls. He forces himself to run faster, no mind the slippery, wet cobblestone under his heels.

 

He sees a bridge up ahead, a single lantern glowing dimly.

 

“Hwang Minhyun, there’s no use in running!” Comes a voice from behind him- belonging to a man he had once considered a friend.

 

He jogs to a stop, at the center of the bridge, elevated above his chasers.

 

“We will get you a trial and we can sort it out the easy way-” Auror Kwak begins to reason with the taller man, who shakes his head with a small smile.

 

“I killed a man. I’m a rogue,” he announces hollowly. The Auror’s face turns darker, the shadows becoming more intense around his eyes, as he raises his wand.

 

“You do realise you’ve just admitted to murder and treason-”

 

“No use in denying something that’s already set in stone, is there?” Minhyun says, scoffing.

 

At the other end of the bridge, another small group of men in similar uniform appear, completely blocking the remaining exit. The Auror steps forward, a familiar dull glow beginning to light the tip of his wand, his eyes ablaze in fury and mistrust.

 

“Hwang Minhyun,” he bellows, spitting the name of the traitor out like poison to his tongue. “This is the end for you. You are now under arrest-”

 

“No,” the traitor in question takes a step back until his back finds the concrete railing digging in.

 

“ _This_ is the end.”

 

And he allows himself to fall backwards, arms spread out like those martyrs in the many paintings hung up on the Walls of Remembrance back in the Ministry.

 

 

(Minhyun doesn’t mind not being remembered. It is better that way.)

 

 

It is silent for a split second all but for the whistling of the wind in his ears as he descends into the unknown.

 

The cold greets him like a friend, longingly, lovingly, pulling him under with the current. It comes with an unfamiliar pain, similar to that of eating a thousand crystals. He’s shining in the moonlight as he slowly drifts away, becoming one with the overwhelming glow of darkness.

 

 

 

He hears the chirping of birds and the sound of waves crashing against the sand, no- more like seagulls squawking and rocks clacking against each other.

 

“You think he’s dead?” Comes an unfamiliar voice.

 

“Doesn’t seem to be. Wait look, he’s-”

 

The salt rises in his lungs and his eyes fly open. Minhyun sits up, retching blood and sea water. He barely registers the black pebbles that replace fine sand and those trash birds pecking at dead fish around him before quickly noticing two wands pointing directly between his eyes.

 

“Who are you and how did you find this place?” Says one with black quiffed hair and an undercut.

 

“Where am I?”

 

“Don’t play the fool, we know you’re with the Ministry-” he starts but is cut off by a shorter, red-brown haired boy who studies Minhyun with piercing hazel eyes, eyebrows knotted together. The taller, buff one glares at his partner.

 

“Back away-”

 

“He’s not lying,” the younger one says without even blinking. The elder, however, isn’t convinced. He lets out a scoff.

 

“Your head telling you that?” he asks mockingly, a challenging tone to his voice. Whatever these two are, Minhyun thinks, they’re not friends.

 

“I’m sure,” the boy says, voice steely.

 

There’s a heart-stopping moment of tension between them before the older man seems to give in and finally turns to Minhyun, who has been watching the entire ordeal from his place down on the ground.

 

“You two are Death Eaters, aren’t you?” He finally pipes up. The dark-haired man smirks, raising his wand once more towards the beached stranger’s head.

 

“Wrong.”

 

And there is a piercing pain in his temple as the world fades out of focus.

 

 

 

There are murmurs.

 

When he finally regains consciousness, Minhyun finds that he can’t move. He is shackled tightly, his hands bound by metal behind him, arms held in place by rope acting as a double measure -no doubt enchanted.

 

And it is black. Well, mostly.

 

He can only see little bits of light through the cloth, silhouettes here and there, milling about around him. But he hears the voices as they echo all around him in hushed tones. They’re in a large hall, he figures, judging from the waves of the unfamiliar lilts all around him as they greet his ears with foreign tongue. There must be sunroofs on the high ceilings, because he feels the light of the day, a late afternoon warmth against his otherwise icy cold skin.

 

“Traitor-”

 

“-execute him before-”

 

“-chased down by that Auror from MACUSA…”

 

He’s roughly shoved to the ground on his knees. The voices die down until the great space is completely silent before a single voice rings out.

 

“I want to look at him.”

 

The black canvas is ripped off him along with a good bunch of hair. Minhyun suppresses a grimace as the pain stings his scalp and the light pierces his eyes all too suddenly. It takes a long few moments for him to regain his vision before his head is yanked back, forcing him to look up.

 

Stood atop a raised platform is a giant black teakwood throne with golden accents. Behind it hangs an enchanted tapestry depicting Dementors and dark creatures alike climbing out of a black hole of nothingness, their slight illusionary movements making it seem all the more real and horrifying. It takes all of Minhyun’s dwindling willpower to suppress the urge to convulse and look away.

 

He can’t, however, tear his eyes away, for the sight ahead of him is one that demands to be seen, even by the weakest of foes.

 

Lounging across the throne, legs thrown over one armrest, in a pool of long, silver hair and midnight blue robes cascading past carvings of suffering mortals; muggles and magical beings alike, is a young man seemingly no younger than Minhyun himself.

 

His pink lips are the only splash of colour around, jarring against pale skin and gleaming grey eyes, curved into a soft, almost kind smile. Between lithe fingers, he holds a redwood kiseru (Ancient Artifact 591, under Section 24B of the Muggle Ancestral Containment Department). Purple smoke weaves through the air, its sickening sweet scent dissolving into the former Auror’s system.

 

At his feet, an albino python slithers soundlessly, its head turned towards the prisoner at the center of the room, studying, waiting to go in for the kill. Minhyun grits his teeth, keeping his gaze fixed on his human (or at least he looks the part) captor’s chilling grey orbs.

 

The young man laughs and had Minhyun not been in his direct presence, he would’ve thought it to be one of genuine delight. But now, in this cold, stagnant room, it’s as mirthless as the howls of the Dark Woods.

 

“I like this one,” he says, more violet smoke escaping his mouth, feeding into the tapestry behind him. Then, “Your name.”

 

It isn’t hard to discern a question from an order. This is the latter and Minhyun isn’t a fool.

 

“Hwang Minhyun, former Senior Auror under the Department of Mysteries, murderer of Head Auror Han Waters, rogue,” he says, voice unwavering. His captor’s lip twitches into a sly smirk.

 

“Murderer? Oh, but it wasn’t you, was it?” He probes.

 

Minhyun says nothing. The man shrugs.

 

“I’m not one to judge. That would be Seongwoo,” he says nonchalantly, motioning to the air behind him.

 

Then, a figure seemingly appears from the black hole of the tapestry.

 

He’s in a black button-up shirt and slacks with harnesses strapped across his chest, winding down his arms and a pair of knife holsters around both thighs, all hidden under a coat of dark brown suede. His hair is combed back, a handsome face on full display. He isn’t smiling -not in the slightest- but somehow, Minhyun detects a dark playfulness in his nature along with a dangerous mischief emblazoned in hazel orbs.

 

He’s seen this man somewhere, long ago, far away, but where-

 

“He isn’t lying,” the newcomer states matter-of-factly. His leader seems pleased with that. In a second, the kiseru transforms into a thin, impossibly straight 12-inch wand of blood-red cherry wood, the top of its curved handle embedded with a single topaz jewel.

 

In the blink of an eye, the wand is digging into the former Auror’s neck and its master is crouching down to meet eyes with his new prisoner, face merely inches away, a crazed smile curling into pink lips.

 

A scream begins to manifest up Minhyun’s spine as he is lured into hollow grey. A wave of visions of blood and gore flood his mind before reality snaps back at whiplash speed, leaving him gasping for air.

 

“Cross me and you will suffer a death more painful than burning in the deepest chasms of Hell,” the whisper ghosts the shell of his ear.

 

“Ren,” Seongwoo’s voice rings out in warning. The silver-haired man -Ren- eases back onto his feet, straightening. His smile is, in nature, sincere as he looks down at his prey. Minhyun uses his last bit of strength to fight back the wave of terror threatening to spill out of his mouth in the form of bile.

 

“Welcome to Paradise, Hwang Minhyun.”

 

 

 

He’s grabbed by scruff of his coat and dragged to his cell by the dark-haired man from the beach. Minhyun realises -rather belatedly- their difference in height and thinks that had it been under different circumstances, he would have easily overpowered him. Though, seeing from the ease in which he transports Minhyun across the mansion, like that of a child with its rag doll, even without the need of magic, it would be a losing battle. And the taller can’t even seem to stand on his own two feet at the present moment.

 

“-and of course, I get stuck with the dirty work, lugging this piece of shit around-” the man mutters under his breath. Minhyun wets his lips.

 

“I’m not dead,” he croaks at the insult. His minder scoffs.

 

“You’ll get your turn.”

 

They turn a corner before Minhyun is thrown onto a grimy, moss-covered limestone floor in a cell that smells of rat piss and other excrement. He groans in pain, taking a second to briefly survey his surroundings. The only light source is one that comes from a circular window no larger than his own head, and through it, splashes of water rain in as the waves crash against the walls outside. Other than that, the cell is completely empty.

 

“Try any Wandless tricks and the hex will activate. Ong will come ‘round to sort you out soon enough,” the minder says, locking up with a wave of his wand. Before stepping out to leave, he pauses.

 

“You should watch your back, Hwang. People with Light in them don’t fare well on this side of the pond,” he finishes darkly.

 

Not a moment later, he disappears into thin air, leaving the new prisoner alone to deal with himself.

 

Minhyun slides down to the ground, back against the wall and stares up at the little vines growing up on the ceiling. Spent, he gives up entirely on thinking about anything at all. It doesn’t take long before he succumbs to exhaustion. The dreams follow soon enough.

 

 

 

He finds himself in the Department of Mysteries, dressed in his old Unspeakables robes. Down the hallway, a vaguely familiar man struggles with holding down another, his wand raised, its tip pointing right between the eyes of his victim. Their voices are somewhat delayed as they echo all around him. He stands rooted to the spot, watching in horror as a ghastly green glow is cast and immediately absorbed into the dark tiles, like a black hole sucking in all remains of a shattered universe. The struggling stops. The winner stays crouched on his knee, staring into the eyes of the new corpse.

 

“What did you do?” Minhyun’s voice comes out almost inaudible, and yet, it bounces off the walls echoing down the corridor.

 

The figure stills for a moment before rising to its feet, back still turned towards him. Minhyun watches him, feels the cold creeping up his back as the other slowly turns towards him.

 

A pair of brown eyes meets his and he finds himself looking into a mirror.

 

Before the scream can escape his lips, his twin self’s image flickers and for a moment, he sees warm, dark, almost-black browns that he knows aren’t his own piercing through locks of wavy black.

 

And in a burst of green light, as if the Department had belatedly exploded into itself, the dream ends.

 

 

 

When he wakes, it is dark and he’s gasping for air. He hears the waves crashing against rock outside, feels the cold spray of water and feels his nerves calm. It is foolish, but for a fleeting moment of reprieve, he thinks that maybe he wouldn’t mind laying here alone until Death rightfully catches up with him.

 

“Hwang Minhyun. What business does a sorry Ministry dog like you have, washing up on our shores?“

 

It’s a vaguely familiar voice, one that Minhyun has heard before somewhere-

 

In the corner of the cell, once again reappearing from the shadows is Ren’s right-hand man, Ong Seongwoo.

 

When he steps out into the dim light of the moon, Minhyun remembers. It must have been more than a decade since he’d last seen those familiar eyes - in the Daily Prophet, at age sixteen, an Auror in training, the young genius destined for great things they used to say- an escaped criminal or something along those lines. The details were hazy. Something about-

 

“You were one of those involved in that robbery years ago, weren’t you? The one at Gringotts, letting loose the Ironbelly,“ he muses, the old yellowed article piecing together in his mind. The other shrugs, lips tugging into tired smile.

 

“And what if I was? You going to send me to Azkaban?“ He says mockingly. Minhyun sighs, feels his skin sting as seawater sprays him.

 

“Maybe I would’ve, had I not been a rogue.“ It’s supposed to be a threat but comes out as an afterthought instead as he lays there, listening to his own voice bounce off against the moss-covered walls. Seongwoo’s chuckle reverberates throughout the mostly empty space.

 

“You the one who killed that Han Waters?“ He prods. Minhyun weighs the answer in his mind, watching the enchanted plants breathe up above, like watching stars bloom.

 

“No. I was framed.“ His voice comes out hollow, the mere mention of it staining his mouth with a bitter taste. There is a considerable pause as Minhyun feels a brief foreign presence parse through his mind.

 

“You’re telling the truth.“

 

“I know I am.“

 

“Surely your colleagues would’ve known, too.“

 

It’s Minhyun’s turn to scoff. Slowly, he begins to sit up, his back now damp from the wet floor and blistering from the salt on his skin.

 

“What are you actually here for, Ong Seongwoo? Carrying out orders for my execution?“

 

Seongwoo begins to pace the space, hands in his coat pockets. He comes to a pause at the little round window, looking out into the dark ocean beyond the stone walls. He hums a little tune.

 

“I come with a proposition for you, Auror Hwang,“ his voice lilting on the prisoner’s former title. Minhyun feels it grating against his ears. A sly smile widens across his face, marring his handsome moonlit features.

 

“Come and work for us. Surely, a wizard of your calibre shouldn’t be wasting away in a dungeon like this-“ he motions to the mostly empty cage. Minhyun studies him silently, eyes hard.

 

“I thought the Death Eaters had died out centuries ago.“

 

Seongwoo throws his head back, laughing uproariously.

 

“Us? Death Eaters? You amuse me, Auror.

 

Maybe some of us are Remnants, yes, but do you really think they were the only ones working in the dark all those years and when they died out, the darkness would’ve been gone, just like that? How naive, I would’ve expected better from an Unspeakable,“ he says with dark mirth.

 

Minhyun shrugs, staying silent, and leans his head against the jagged cell wall, closing his eyes. His answer never comes.

 

It is a long time later, but he’s on the cusp of sleep again when he hears pebbles crackling under Seongwoo’s boots as he finally leaves.

 

“May your dreams be filled with the stars you had so dearly guarded, Rogue,“ he says over his shoulder before disappearing into the void.

 

 

 

It should pass- this sleep- but it never does, because out from the darkness, as his eyes flit open just a fraction, his mind sensing an external disturbance, he sees a pair of hands appearing out of nowhere before his head is being covered with black cloth once again. He’s lifted off the ground screaming as somewhat familiar hands are grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, hoisting him onto his feet.

_Somnium,_ comes a low whisper against the shell of his ear.

 

When he comes to once more, he’s greeted by the waves again. But this time, they’re lapping calmly against the shore. He feels sand and pebble crackle under his feet and figures that he’s on the beach again.

 

“-made quite a ruckus. He’s going to be a handful,“ comes the now-familiar voice of his minder.

 

“He’s powerful. We have to be careful-“ comes a younger voice, one Minhyun recognizes as the Legilimens from earlier.

 

“It’s rude to eavesdrop,“ comes yet another familiar voice but before he can decipher its owner, the cloth flies off his head and Minhyun finds himself exposed.

 

“I never said I’d work for you.“

 

It takes a long moment for him to realise it’s still night. The only light illuminating his surroundings are the dim glow of the lamps lining the mansion wall to his right. To his left is the ocean, calm and serene. Along the horizon, lights from a town twinkle like stars.

 

He turns to the voice and finds the three of them perched on a hill of strange black rock formations, its onyx sparkling under the pale light of the moon. All three are dressed in varying styles of all-black attire; the Legilimens sporting linen pants and a black tunic topped with a loose, plain traditional robe fluttering furiously in the harsh wind; the minder in a black mesh shirt under a long, dark coat and lastly, Seongwoo in his suede, judging from the twin blades strapped to his thighs, gleaming under the dim light.

 

It takes a while to piece together their identities because all three have their faces covered in odd black masks. The Legilimens is in a muggle gas mask, followed by the minder in a Tal mask (Ancient Artifact 121) and presumably their leader in a Pierrot mask with a single white teardrop beneath its left eye.

 

Between all this, they choose to ignore his announcement, instead continuing to study him like prey, heads cocked to the side, all of them. Seongwoo hums from his spot on the most precarious edge of the rock hill.

 

“What I said last night was never an offer, Auror Hwang.“

 

He jumps off the hill of rocks, landing on the sand with nothing but a soft thud. Two objects appear in his hands as he walks towards the prisoner.

 

In his left is a familiar bone-white wand of Elm the length of an adult male forearm, phoenix feather core with a worn leather-bound hold. Seongwoo raises it to his eye-level, studying its engravings.

 

“Very impressive,“ he comments nonchalantly as they stand face-to-face for the first time, a few feet of space between them. Without another thought, he holds the wand out to the other man. Minhyun’s eyes widen a fraction with surprise, but he makes no move to retrieve it.

 

“Go on, we’re not going to kill you just yet,“ his minder hisses off to the side.

 

Gingerly, he extends his arm to claim his old friend. Immediately upon contact, he feels the blood rushing through his veins and a dim, peridot glow flashes across his mind. Along with a spell-

 

The base of his head grows hot before an excruciating pain begins to spread across his scalp, the voices of his past screeching at him from within along with a series of memories; the moon in his hands, the courtroom, the cold, dead eyes of Han Waters.

 

Minhyun falls to his knees gasping for air, the pain in his skull ebbing away just as fast as it had come.

 

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,“ comes Seongwoo’s voice, looming above him.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a large, silver conch shell thrust out before him. The Legilimens and his minder are at either side of him. Seongwoo raises an eyebrow, eyes flitting to the shell in his hand.

 

“Come on, then.“

 

He’s surrounded. There’s no point in trying to escape anymore-

 

At the last moment, just as he holds his own hand out to grab at the Portkey, a mask is strapped to his face from behind and the world dissolves at his feet, reality ripping at the seems as they are warped into space.

 

 

 

They appear atop a wooden bridge. Lanterns line each side, casting a yellow glow. At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around in the festive village but within moments, the sounds of a bustling city becomes all the louder.

 

They stay rooted to the spot, waiting.

 

Then, shadows without owners begin to appear all around them, moving across the ground. They take many forms; mostly of dokkaebi and gwisin. The ghoulish inhabitants prance about to a mysterious beat of drums and shrine bells.

 

“He’s up there.“

 

The Legilimens points ahead, up into the mountains. In the distance, wedged between twin peaks, is a wooden hut conspicuously unlit, unlike the other buildings in the village.

 

“Do you feel it?“ Seongwoo is at his side. Minhyun nods, setting his jaw.

 

“Those are powerful enchantments,“ he states. The Dark Magic surrounding the lone building crackles even from this distance.

 

“Then good thing we have you,“ Seongwoo says and Disapparates in a streak of black smoke before anything further can be questioned.

 

A familiar large hand coils around the base of Minhyun’s neck.

 

“You’re a pain,“ his minder says before following suit, leaving no time for protest.

 

They reach the base of a straight flight of wooden steps heading vertically upwards towards the hut. A single wooden talisman hangs guard from the deep red torii.

 

“Jihoon?“ Seongwoo calls out to the Legilimens, who steps forward, eyes glazed over, the corners of his irises beginning to dilute white. Before the brown of his eyes are fully drowned out, he blinks and it disappears. The younger shakes his head.

 

“Nothing. Not even a presence,“ he says gravely. Seongwoo clicks his tongue, clearly dissatisfied.

 

“Baekho?“ His minder shakes his head, the tell-tale stripes of black and orange fading from his neck

 

“Can’t smell a thing-“

 

“No, there’s someone. Or something up there,“ Minhyun cuts him off, muttering, studying the talisman. His eyebrows knit together, the grip on his wand tightening. Seongwoo’s lips twitch, his eyes gleaming, wand raised towards him.

 

“So get us in, then,“ he hisses, jerking his chin towards the entrance.

 

Grudgingly, the former Auror goes forward, until he’s only a step from entering the torii. He draws a deep breath, waving his wand, closing his eyes.

 

_Finite. Diminuendo. Deletrius. Dissendium._

 

And what used to be the empty arch of the torii is now a mirror of what seems to be the interior of the hut. Without another word, the three behind him step forward to enter. But Jihoon and Baekho stop short at the doorway, on guard as Seongwoo storms in, his coat billowing behind him. Wild wisps of black smoke escape from the tip of his ash-wood wand, swirling around him. A maniacal smile spreads across his lips, his eyes turning dark as he spots his victim Petrified in a corner of the room.

 

An old man cowers, a whimper barely escaping his lips. Piles of gold surround his dwindling figure.

 

“The Cheshires relieve you of your debt,“ he hisses before a red glow erupts from his wand, consuming the entire room.

 

There is an earsplitting crack from above. It is only moments later, that rock and snow begin to tumble down from the mountain.

 

Without wasting any time, all four Disapparate into streaks of black. The conch shell awaits them on the wooden bridge. The noise of the town continues along with the drums and the bells, as its inhabitants go about their festivities, uncaring of the avalanche heading their way. They make a jump for it, grabbing at the silver in all directions before disappearing just as they had come before.

 

 

 

Jihoon collapses as soon as they arrive back at the beach. The first signs of morning paint the otherwise dark sky in the horizon; a thin, red line drawing its path, separating the ocean from the sky.

 

Baekho lugs him over his back, as if it were a normality, and disappears into the castle without another word. Seongwoo, too, begins head into the black walls. He comes to a pause beside Minhyun, their shoulders resting against each other. He’s warm, the former Auror notes at the back of his mind.

 

“There’s a bridge at the edge of the island. Maybe if you look hard enough you’ll be able to find it. Let me know when you do,“ he says with a small, tired smile and disappears.

 

 

 

There’s a bed waiting for him in his cell. It’s old and rusted all over with a damp mattress but it’s better than nothing. He doesn’t think twice before collapsing onto it, the metal creaking violently underneath his weight.

 

He hadn’t realised how much he’d been shaking until he tries to untie the mask with twitching fingers. He holds the traditional painted fox-mask up at arm’s length, studying its ancient cracked clay and chipped white paint. He lets his fingers glide across the three red teardrops printed in the center of the forehead area. The deep red tells him blood must’ve been used to paint it. He doesn’t stay awake long enough to ponder on it.

 

As he is pulled into another dream, the mask dissolves in his fingers, leaving him holding onto nothing but air.

 

 

 

He’s sixteen again, watching the Ironbelly snap at its cage, spitting fire and screeching into the grey afternoon; a burst of colour in an otherwise dull month at the Academy.

 

He’s nineteen, watching the golden glowing string weave around his arm, feeling the Vow settle into him, feeling his tongue turn to lead. Auror Han smiles down at him, nodding in acknowledgement.

 

He’s twenty three, blood staining his gritted teeth as he hisses out the Cruciatus Curse, his mind rattling as his victim’s screams rips through the dark halls of the Department of Mysteries.

 

He’s twenty six, watching the clouds part as he throws himself off a stone bridge. Just as the moon peaks through in all its pale glory, he’s landed in what feels like a million shard of glass digging into his back, paralyzing him with its cold before the darkness consumes him whole.

 

 

 

His wand isn’t of any use on the island, he figures soon enough.

 

As he treads the shores at the crack of dawn, he can’t help but keep glancing over his shoulder at the magnificent black castle. Its windows seem like eyes, watching his every move.

 

They might as well be; in all his years spent on level nine, he’s learnt that there are many things in this world that just appear, sentient beings that seem at first inanimate or enchanted by man but after a closer look, seem to exist simply by feeding off whatever odd energy it can.

 

Nothing much seems to grow on the island, possibly because of such potent malevolence the island seems to thrive off. The strange, dark, glittery rock formations shimmer violet under the sun. The growth is spread throughout the land, where plants normally would be.

 

He finds the mask staring down at him, hung from the black metal grills of the entrance of his cell, just as the sun hits its highest mark in the bright blue sky.

 

He’s on the beach at dusk where Jihoon and Baekho wait atop their perches, looking out at the blood red horizon. They barely acknowledge him, merely sitting in silence. Seongwoo joins them a long while later, eyes dark, shoulders tense. Out of the corner of his eye, Minhyun swears he sees silver hair disappearing behind a window up above.

 

The silver shell appears on the wet ground, glittering pink under the sunset. Without a word, they disappear into the spiraling earth.

 

 

 

It’s the clicking that does it.

 

Or it doesn’t. Because it stops and the air goes stale. The tunnel begins to close in on them, slowly but surely and they’re miles away from an opening.

 

It is silent, except for the bristling of the fur on Baekho’s back and their wild breathing as they wait for something. A moment passes, nothing, and another, still nothing-

 

Then, Jihoon is being lifted off the ground, bony fingers tightening around his throat. The thing -a female- lets out a piercing hiss, its orange mane snapping at the air. Baekho is the first to pounce, fangs bared, claws swiping at its face, tearing out its flesh.

 

Jihoon drops to the ground on his knees, retching. Baekho seems to be winning, but he’s tiring out and the other two can sense it. They raise their wands but he’s moving too much and they can’t get a clear shot of it.

 

“Baekho, take Jihoon!” Seongwoo barks, throwing the Portkey up.

 

With impossible speed, the tiger rips himself away from his enemy, bringing with him a chunk of its arm. He morphs back into a human mid-air and reaches both arms out; grabbing Jihoon by the collar and the Portkey with his other. They vanish into the vacuum with the sound of a whip cracking.

 

_“Reducto!”_

 

A beam of red shoots out from Seongwoo’s wand but he’s underestimated it as he misses his mark by a hair, giving it time to leap out of the way. A wall explodes somewhere behind, the whole tunnel rumbling in its wake.

 

The creature spares a glance behind its back before turning towards its two assailants, baring its green fangs in a sick smile. Minhyun sees it before Seongwoo does; its sharp, dagger-like tail, aiming for the space between them while its eyes flit to the fox-face, knowing very well that the Pierrot would make the jump to put himself between it.

 

Minhyun knows, he knows it well and he Disapparates the moment Seongwoo’s pinky comes into contact with his, a vicious green flash of light escaping his wand.

 

There’s the sound of bone crunching as they spiral in the vacuum, and Minhyun sees red but it’s not his own. He barely has time to register Seongwoo’s scream before the image of a black pebble crosses his mind.

 

 

 

_Tergeo. Reparifors._

 

Seongwoo’s body lays spasming, blood continuing to seep out from his chest and head. His mouth is opening and closing like a fish, gasping for air, eyes fixed upward on the purple sky.

 

_Anapneo. Tergeo._

 

The wand shakes in his hand as he keeps the other on Seongwoo’s forehead, trying his best to calm him. His body seems to be settling down, reducing to slight twitches in his arms and legs. The bleeding has subsided but he’s lost enough for Minhyun’s knees to be completely soaked in the metallic scarlet.

He’s still gasping, lips quivering. Minhyun keeps his hand on his head, rubbing circles on his temple, muttering every healing spell he can manage.

 

It must be hours later when Seongwoo settles, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Minhyun feels for his pulse with a touch of his lips to his neck, ignoring the taste of metal in his mouth and the gashes on his own arms.

 

He lifts his now-numb hand from the other’s forehead. A calm breeze washes over them. He looks around, spotting the castle in the distance.

 

He can barely register the concrete path they’ve landed on; it starts from below the white willow at the edge of the mainland behind him up to the black rocky hills on the beach. The platform isn’t raised above the sea level and yet is completely dry as the waves merely reflect against it.

 

The seagulls cry up above and it takes another breeze to wash over him to finally send him slumping on his side, feeling his world spin out of control, losing his balance to the sound of the waves lapping on the faraway shore.

 

 

 

He wakes to an unfamiliar darkwood-boarded ceiling. It’s the feeling of silk on his skin that jolts him upright. He lets out a sharp gasp, feels a fiery pain shoot up his arms. He looks down and finds his forearms wrapped in bandages.

 

Seongwoo stands off to the side, leaning against the window pane, looking out.

 

“You landed us in the water,” is the first thing he says. Minhyun furrows his brows. He didn’t, knows he didn’t, but then the pathway cutting through the ocean flashes across his mind, and decides to hold his tongue.

 

“I miscalculated,” he replies stiffly before extracting himself from the unfamiliar bed and begins to put his shoes on.

 

He doesn’t dare look up when he hears the other man come to a stop right in front of him, ragged leather boots entering his field of vision.

 

“You could’ve killed us,” the other says flatly. Minhyun keeps his head down, tightening the laces until his ankles begin to hurt.

 

“I saved you,” he counters half-heartedly.

 

Lithe fingers catch his chin, forcing him to look up.

 

And suddenly, there is a foreign pressure against his lips as Seongwoo closes the distance between them.

 

Something alien takes control of him and he finds himself returning the gesture with the same fervour and hunger. He parts his lips ever slightly, releasing a ragged breath, just enough for the other’s tongue to slip in, pressing against his own. He feels teeth against his muscle, eliciting a groan at the base of his throat and dives deeper, exploring every dip and curve of the other man’s mouth, like a prayer, desperate and longing and-

 

Then, there’s a finger trailing down his chest-

 

He breaks away harshly, glaring daggers at the man looming over him.

 

“What is this?” He hisses, finally standing to meet Seongwoo at eye-level.

 

Heat radiates off the both of them. Seongwoo sets his jaw, eyes storming over, and takes a step forward, letting his arm ghost the side of the taller’s torso.

 

“This,” he begins slowly, “is a miscalculation.”

 

It’s Minhyun who closes the distance this time, finally choosing to let go completely.

 

 

 

Their unspoken arrangements are always forgotten when the next morning comes.

 

Seongwoo listens every time as Minhyun slips out and the door closes behind him with a soft click.

 

The bridge never appears again, not even in his dreams. Even as he stands for hours on end at the edge of the island, staring out at the aquamarine waves crashing into sprays of white, never once does he see any remnant of what may have been the pathway that had cut through the water.

 

Their missions go on without a hitch. In fact, they seem to be getting them done faster, working together more fluidly than before.

 

And when they retreat back to the castle, Minhyun somehow always finds himself wandering through the castle, looking for Seongwoo’s quarters in the ever-shifting arrangements of the rooms.

 

They fuck each other raw, with few words exchanged, without much thought to it. But then sometimes, a stroke across the cheek or a sloppy kiss below an ear is all any of them really need before slipping away into the voids of sleep.

 

 

 

It is any other night, one amongst a hundred others, when Minhyun finds himself wandering further than usual. The castle is never very quiet with its hundreds of inhabitants, most of whom he’d never seen or met before (and may never), but he finds himself in a silent place, where the noise of the insects outside seem to dull the noise of the distant underground tavern.

 

There aren’t anymore doors up here and he knows he’s making a mistake, he knows and turns to backtrack away. But a sliver of light from down a hallway is calling to him. He doesn’t ignore it.

 

The floorboards creak, but it’s almost inaudible, and he only hears it because it reverberates up his heel. He’s getting closer and there are now voices and whispers.

 

He comes to a stop beside a large silver door. Its carvings depicting gruesome murders of the Non-Magics, Dementors absorbing life into their billowy forms and a familiar black hole at the center of it. He takes a step forward, drawn to the light.

 

Through the thin crack, the voices get louder and morph into moans of pleasure and frantic breathing. And there, is the silver-haired master of the house, legs wrapped around a familiar black-haired figure from Minhyun’s distant past as he’s being fucked with his back against a black, ruined wall. His pink lips are parted, glistening wet as he gasps-

 

His eyes flutter open, and Minhyun finds himself entrapped by piercing ash grey before the man’s lips curve into a small smile.

 

He tears his eyes away and storms off as the metal door clicks shut, echoing down the halls, chasing him.

 

Soon, he finds a familiar mahogany door and lets himself in. Seongwoo’s head snaps up, vaguely surprised and begins to form a question, but is cut off by a fierce kiss and quickly forgets about it.

 

 

 

Minhyun thrusts into him hard, the bed rocking violently. Tears prickle the corner of Seongwoo’s eyes as he bunches the silk emerald sheets tight in his fist, a feral moan escaping his mouth.

 

They climax together, and it’s like falling of a cliff straight to the ground; it’s sudden and beautiful and it’s over.

 

Minhyun rolls off him, spent, gasping for air. Seongwoo doesn’t grant him the peace for too long.

 

“Something bothering you?” He breathes out. The room goes quiet as the other’s breathing slows down.

 

An answer doesn’t come, because Minhyun is pulling on his robes and the next moment, the door clicks behind him, leaving Seongwoo staring at the ceiling, his mind reeling.

 

 

 

He’s unraveling.

 

They’re winding through back alleys lined with the most exotic of plants and it’s lush green and humid. Wild cackling echoes from ahead of them, and they hear Baekho let out a roar. Jihoon follows them from above, streaks of his black smoke trailing, providing cover.

 

It’s cramped; there’s barely enough space for any of them to run on the ground. Seongwoo follows behind him and he can feel the other’s eyes boring into him. They hadn’t talked at all these past few days, barely even acknowledging each other.

 

The greenery shrivel up as they fly past, bursting into flames at times. They pay no mind, focusing entirely on their hunt; twins running around selling Dark Prophecies to Ministry agents.

 

Soon up ahead, a fork opens up; a thin, white lamp post slicing straight through the road. Baekho bounds up the row of roofs to the left. Minhyun follows Jihoon to his right. He spares a glance over his shoulder, catches a glimpse of Seongwoo’s profile before the other disappears behind a row of buildings, following their tiger.

 

Then, he fixes his gaze on a head of red hair thrown back in manic laughter. She even has the guts to turn fully towards him, with a smile, her feet momentarily levitating off the ground before throwing a hex up at Jihoon. The younger lets out a yelp of pain before his legs give way and he tumbles forward, unconscious.

 

Gritting his teeth, Minhyun lets loose a Petrifying charm to her back. Immediately, the witch stiffens, her smile frozen to her lips before skidding and taking a harsh fall onto the tar, her body bouncing with a sickening crunch.

 

She’s flat on the ground with bright red skid marks on her arms and face. A large gash has opened up at the corner of one of her lips, creating the illusion that her mouth had opened up to the side, adding an extra length to her crazed grin.

“You going to kill me, boy?” She manages, voice shrill, eyes wide. Minhyun sets his jaw. He takes a step forward until he’s looming over her.

 

“Why don’t you go on, then?” She tries again.

 

He snaps.

 

_Crucio._

 

Her shrieks echo down the alleys. But soon, it’s followed by manic laughter.

 

“That’s it boy!” She screams in delight, arching her back.

 

He lets fly another Curse, watches her body writhe below him, feels a buzz of adrenaline at the tips of his fingers.

 

_Another._

 

He’s well aware of the blood streaming down the sides of his mouth as he grits his teeth. It’s a heavy flow, running down his arm, down his fingers, down his wand before it gathers in a droplet and falls off the tip.

 

Somehow, she manages extend her body forward, catching it in her tongue. Her expression turns into one of disgust as she spits it out, her saliva dribbling down her chin.

 

“You wretched half-blood,” she hisses, baring her fangs.

 

_Another-_

_Avada Kedavra!_

 

A streak of green comes blazing from behind him. He stands there, breathing ragged, as he watches her body still, her eyes like glass reflecting the pale blue sky.

 

“That’s enough, Minhyun.” Seongwoo’s voice is distant, like he’s hearing it from the other end of a long hallway.

His world begins to spin. A series of images begin to flash across his mind: the Space Room, his Unspeakable robe turning black under a blue fire, a full moon, a lotus, the albino python snapping up at him along with a sharp ringing at the back of his head.

 

Jihoon arrives with a human Baekho, both of them wildly confused.

 

“What was that.” The Animagus growls, marching towards him. Minhyun stumbles past him before breaking into a jog.

 

“Minhyun! Where are you-” Seongwoo barks out to him, his voice bouncing off the streets.

 

With one final burst of energy, he Disapparates away.

 

 

 

The castle is kind to him today.

 

Later that evening, he finds himself staring at a miniscule scratch on a familiar mahogany door. He lifts a hand to knock before lowering it and turning his gaze to the floor.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar figure in a tan trench coat heading down the stairs. He looks over his shoulder and finds his gaze locked on another’s. A pair of deep brown, almost black irises widen a fraction in recognition before they are gone.

 

He’s about to turn away to chase them when the door clicks open.

 

Seongwoo stands, looking for all the world like Death incarnate. The bags underneath his eyes are impossible to miss, along with the sorry state of the dark room behind him.

 

Wordlessly, he steps aside, inviting his guest in.

 

Minhyun shuts the door behind him before letting his head fall back against the wood as he stays leaning against the entrance. Seongwoo stands an arm’s length away from him, weary eyes piercing through him, studying him.

 

“I can’t ever go back, can I?“ Minhyun says suddenly, to no one in particular, as if the thought had just occurred to him. Because in truth, he hadn’t had any chance to lament on his fate until now, as he stares out through the window, at the twinkling lights in the distance.

 

“Do you want to?” Seongwoo’s voice comes out quiet and soft. His guest straightens to meet his gaze.

 

“No.”

 

And Minhyun’s walking towards him, dragging his feet behind him. His body tilts forward and he lets his head fall, resting his forehead on Seongwoo’s shoulder, turning until the bridge of his nose is nuzzled in the crook of the Pierrot’s neck.

 

Seongwoo’s eyes flutter close as he sways ever so slightly to the rhythm of Minhyun’s breath against his skin. He lets his hands wander, gently pushing the heavy coat off the other’s back. Minhyun’s lips press into his skin, moving slowly as he whispers unintelligibly. Seongwoo’s breath hitches when he feels Minhyun sucking on his throat.

 

His hand comes up, cupping the fox’s face and he doesn’t want to look so he leans forward and kisses him. It’s different this time; tender and calm. And they stand there for a long time, quietly, just kissing and letting their hands roam.

 

Seongwoo pushes into him slow, taking in the soft whimpers of the man beneath him. His strokes are languid and fluid. The slight pressure every time Minhyun’s back arches, allowing him in deeper and the soft moans the movement elicits is enough to send his mind into a haze.

 

He doesn’t remember much after, other than Minhyun’s nails digging into his back, his teeth dragging against his jaw, his whispers ghosting the shell of his ear and the climax that comes after, their voices becoming one, reverberating throughout the room, bouncing off the darkwood walls.

 

He collapses onto Minhyun right after and falls asleep almost immediately with his chest rising and falling steadily under him.

 

 

 

The waters are still today. The quiet is peaceful, like the calm before the storm.

 

Minhyun stands knee-deep, his wand gripped at his side, relishing the burn of the salt against his skin. His eyes are closed, the sun is warm against his face despite the autumn weather.

 

“What are you doing here, Kim Jonghyun?” He says in a hushed tone, trying to keep his voice level, as green flashes across his mind, a dead Han Waters spread in front of him.

 

He hears the man enter the water, stopping at his side. He doesn’t need to even look at the shorter man to tell he’s still wearing the same drabby trench coat, and he’s still the same, unassuming but strong-willed little thing from before, when they were young.

 

“It was him, you know, Kwak from MACUSA,” he says with that unique raspy voice.

 

“I know,” Minhyun says, hollow. He pauses for a beat, letting the cold wind pass.

 

“How long have you been here?”

 

“Before you,” he replies nonchalantly. And then, “Mole,“ and it all clicks. Minhyun nods knowingly.

 

“You’re going to end up dead, Auror Kim,” he adds, but there isn’t any malice in those words. Jonghyun breaks into a smile, ducking his head in brief embarrassment, like a little kid.

 

“Better than going back, and it’s not like I can anymore,” he replies nonchalantly. Minhyun scoffs.

 

“And aren’t you just the same?” Jonghyun’s voice has taken on that hard edge that comes out of nowhere, the type you wouldn’t expect from someone like him.

 

 

(But then again, nothing is as it seems.)

 

 

“Double-crossing doesn’t seem like something someone of your nature would be putting to practice,” Minhyun quips. The shorter man chuckles.

 

“And I wouldn’t have imagined you would be so ready to give in to such lies, Auror Hwang,” he counters coolly.

 

“I guess we’re even, then,” Minhyun says with a sort of comfortable finality. “I came to get out of the Ministry’s grip, you came on orders to bring me back and now we’re both stuck. Seems fair.”

 

 

 

“You wanted to see me?” Seongwoo’s tone is cautionary. He knows when the Master is in no mood to fool around.

 

“Come here, Seongwoo,” Ren says, not bothering to turn to him from his gaze out the window. He does as he is told and heads over.

 

Immediately, his eyes zero in on two figures standing in the water, a little ways away from the beach, where the ocean comes up to their knees; quite a distance considering the low tide.

 

Hwang Minhyun and Kim Jonghyun stand side-by-side. They don’t seem to be saying anything, but upon closer inspection, he sees their lips barely moving in an obvious attempt at hushed conversation.

 

“It shouldn’t be a problem for you,” Ren begins in a sing-song manner, turning away and heading towards his bed.

 

He spreads his arms and falls backwards, like a child. The enchanted gold quilt rises to greet him. A small smile plays on his lips.

 

“Am I wrong, Seongwoo?” He questions, and it sounds harmless with that easy-going tone, like a friend asking for a small favour-

 

Seongwoo swallows the bile threatening to spill out his throat.

 

“No, it will be done,” he says, keeping his tone even and turns to leave, knowing very well the sinister smile creeping on his old friend’s lips. That, he does not need to see.

 

 

 

There are undertones.

 

The waves continue to stay still for weeks after.

 

Jonghyun disappears. The castle seems to close in on itself; the rooms have stopped shifting and all underground tunnels out are shut off. More black hills begin to grow along the shoreline, as if the island were building a fortress around itself.

 

Seongwoo finds Ren incapacitated half the time, laying on the floor in a fetal position with his silver hair pooling around him and the albino wrapped tight around his arm, his back towards the ruined wall where cracks run all over and dull indentations litter like craters.

 

Their numbers continue to dwindle as the doors on each wall begin to disappear.

 

Minhyun wanders the island, having memorized every inch of it, as therapy. He hasn’t had any nightmares for a long time now. It isn’t necessarily a good thing. He finds himself thinking about the bridge more often than not. Once in a while, he thinks he catches a glimpse of the white concrete parting through the waters but when he turns towards it, there’s nothing but the still aquamarine sparkling under the high sun.

 

Seongwoo watches him sleep at the end of every night, his eyes linger on the curves of his lips, his high cheekbones reflecting the dull light of the moon. He stares out at the sky, absentmindedly running his hand through the other’s hair. It’s not too long now.

 

He falls asleep with Ren’s voice ringing in his head.

 

_It shouldn’t be a problem._

 

 

 

Jonghyun’s body floats atop the calm ocean, still as can be, dried lotus petals adorning his chest. His expression is calm and peaceful, almost as if he were taking a rest after an unusually long day at work.

 

Seongwoo and Minhyun watch from atop their perch on a nearby hill as Ren nudges his body, letting it flow with the current, away, away, away before being swallowed up by the horizon.

 

“They’ll be coming any time now,“ Seongwoo says, voice muffled underneath his mask. He can’t really tell because Minhyun’s hidden under his own clay face but the other seems to be saying a silent prayer. He doesn’t respond for a long time.

 

“We were at the Academy together,“ he whispers and it’s barely audible but it’s quiet enough around them to hear him.

 

Seongwoo spares a glance at the castle. It still looms over them, great and obsidian. But its cracks are opening wider with each passing day. There are barely any windows left, what with the disappearance of so many of the Cheshires who had once resided there.

 

Down below, Ren lets out a scream to the sky, wand pointed upwards. There is a clap of thunder, a flash of lightning, a pause and then a shower the colour of blood.

 

The horizon turns black.

 

 

 

Minhyun turns up early, knocking softly at the door. They watch the sunset; green and maroon and sickly, bumping their shoulders together as they squeeze on the railings of the balcony. Then, Seongwoo takes Minhyun’s chin in his hand, tilts his head, places a tender kiss on his jaw, then on his throat and on his eyelids before kissing him long and hard on his lips. And they make love, knowing very well it may be the last time.

 

 

 

They’re running.

 

Behind them, sparks fly as spells ricochet off the tunnel walls. The shouts of their pursuers seem to get closer with every second. Seongwoo stumbles as a hex hits him square in the back. He loses his balance and scrapes his shoulder against the rough crystals surrounding them. Minhyun slows down ahead of him, eyeing him with worry. He shakes his head and begins running again, brings a portion of the ceiling behind him down in hopes of slowing down. Ignoring the blood trickling down his arm and the burning sensation on his back, they continue desperately to hold their lead.

 

Then, a fork opens up ahead of them. To their left, the smell of the sea breeze wafts through the air, to the right, they hear the dull screams echoing against wood; another entrance back into the castle. They take their left, sending a Fiendfyre in the form of a blue wild boar down the opposite way.

 

Soon enough, they spot sunlight shining through a hole in the wall and they find themselves at the furthest end of the island, amongst a maze of black, rocky hill.

 

 _“Orbis!“_ They shout in unison, collapsing the entrance from which they came from. For a moment, they stand there, panting, hands on their knees.

 

 _Ferula,_ Minhyun mutters under his breath. Instantly, black ribbons begin to coil around Seongwoo’s shoulder. It’s not going to hold up for too long, but it’s enough for now. Seongwoo smiles up weakly at him. Minhyun nods in response, patting him on the back and turns away, beginning to walk into the maze without another word.

 

As they walk, Seongwoo begins to realise something is off. Minhyun has never once looked at him in the time they’ve been winding through the maze. It’s too quiet out here. He reaches out a hand to the other’s shoulder but is immediately shrugged off.

 

He breaks into a jog, overtaking Minhyun before coming to a stop right in front of him, blocking the path. The fox’s eyes are misty and faraway.

 

“Minhyun,“ he says in a desperate whisper, shaking him gently.

 

And then it comes.

 

A wave of terror washes over Seongwoo, a numbing pain begins to spread throughout his body, starting from the base of his head. The ringing in his ears are deafening. He crumples to the ground, crying out in pain. His vision begins to blur and the last thing he sees before the scene shifts is Minhyun staring down at him listlessly.

 

 

 

He’s in the hall, back in the castle. Bodies are littered around him. Among them are a familiar black and orange tiger, the gash on his neck all dried up, his eyes very much human and empty. Jihoon’s gas mask is smashed to pieces but its owner is nowhere to be found. There are too many to count after that.

 

And there, on the black throne, is Ren, silver hair matted with blood cascading down over the armrests, arms limp and hanging off his sides, a sword embedded in his stomach so deep it pierces through the wooden frame beneath him. The albino is wrapped around its handle, completely rigid, turning to stone. Seongwoo stands hovering over them, and he does not remember breathing as he is sucked into those hollow grey eyes as the vision ends.

 

 

 

He sits up, hyperventilating, his throat and eyes on fire. He coughs out blood and tries to calm himself down.

 

As he regains his senses, he notices the sounds of the waves crashing onto the beach. Minhyun stands, ankle-deep in water, looking out as the wind sends his hair flying about in a flurry.

 

He turns to Seongwoo, as if just noticing him there. His eyes are sad. Whatever’s left of his mask is hanging off the back of his neck. And he turns and walks into the water.

 

Seongwoo gathers his energy and picks himself up, running after him.

 

“Where-“ he begins before realising that he’s standing on a concrete bridge, right in the middle of the ocean. Minhyun stands with his back turned to him.

 

“Now,“ he says quietly. His voice carries an undertone of anger and grief. Seongwoo is stunned to silence for a beat before he sobers, eyes darkening.

 

“You knew,“ he says.

 

Minhyun turns to him with a sad smile, and he’s beautiful, with the wind in his hair, the blood smudging on his cheek, his dark coat billowing behind him. He’s the most beautiful thing Seongwoo’s ever seen in his sorry life.

 

His fingers tighten around his wand as he slowly raises it.

 

“I’m sorry I never told you I found it,“ Minhyun murmurs. Seongwoo shakes his head, eyes stinging.

 

“I didn’t want you to,“ he replies just as softly, holding back the desperate cry that is building at the base of his throat.

 

“Live, Ong Seongwoo.“

 

He nods, finally letting the tears escape as a pale blue light begins to glow form the tip of his wand. Minhyun's tall, lean figure becomes a blur as the light engulfs him.

 

_Obliviate._

 

Seongwoo hears a splash of water and turns away, focusing the last of his energy towards the magnificent black castle, sitting atop the black hills and watches it collapse on itself in a bright green supernova.

 

The last remnants of Hwang Minhyun's existence float to the surface of the water. Whatever is left of its clay mould is clean, its blood-red paint fading away into little droplets that taint the ocean for just a second before dissolving into nothing.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He’s falling again. It’s happened before, Minhyun thinks, feeling the water fill his lungs. The moon is too bright to look at, then he thinks again, and it isn’t the moon. It’s warm. A slight tremor sends vibrations through his entire body. The sky is tinted peridot.

 

His body numbs and his eyes flutter close as he feels the last of his soul leave him, drifting away with the ocean.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He’s running late. The clock strikes noon.

 

Weaving through the crowd with a coffee stain on his shirt, he is careful not to hit anyone with the large case he carries on his back.

 

Muttering to himself, Seongwoo fumbles with his card, having to swipe it two or three times before finally, the turnstiles release and he’s running again.

 

The voice over the intercom is muffled under the buzz of the thousands of other people moving through the station. He navigates his way past the little clicks, beeps and electronic noises that echo through the bare space between bodies, bounding up the escalators, skipping steps. His legs are burning but he pushes on.

 

Finally, the stairs open up to Platform Two, just as the doors close and he ends up with his forehead against the body of the train, his head aching. He takes a step back, letting out a frustrated groan.

 

There’s another blare of the intercom and his head snaps up to glare at the speakers. He scans the station, shaking a leg, hands in his pockets. A few moments later, a horn blares in the distance, signaling the arrival of another train.

 

The noise is drowned out, however, as Seongwoo locks gazes with a pair of hazel irises staring at him from the opposite platform. He barely registers the curved lips and feline-like eyes before the blaring of the train horns filter in.

 

It’s a snap decision as the train rounds the corner.

 

He lugs his case onto his bad shoulder, ignoring the ache as he bounds down the stairwell and runs across the station, jumping over gates and ignoring the curses from other passersby directed at him. It’s a long shot, and he’s probably going to lose his job, but there’s just something about that guy-

 

He lands on Platform Four, panting, hands on his knees. Then, he straightens, looking around frantically-

 

And there, at the other end of the platform are warm, hazel eyes curving into crescent moons, an amused smile playing on the man's lips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hello it's been a while. let me just start off by saying, it's been almost a year since i first thought of this idea. wrote the basic plotline in december _last year_ , wrote about 1k words or so in march, abandoned it once again before finally completing this 10k in the span of three days. life. (btw this is the longest one shot i've written. ever.)
> 
> fun facts: peridot is the birthstone colour for august need i say more?
> 
> also my college entrance exams are next month, wish me luck!


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